chrisisofaith | IC Contact

[Sometimes, Jon knows he's not nearly good enough for Chris. He'll do his best to make up for it where he can. Like flinching slightly when Chris wraps around him. Jon knows a better boyfriend wouldn't do that... even with a murderous siren as the one to hug them so sweetly.

Jon breathes out slowly and forces his body to stop. For now. Instead, he reaches up to grasp one of Chris' arms and give it a comforting squeeze.]

You'd do the same for me. I love you. Now, let's get you back onto the roller and into the bathroom. I like my sirens like I like my coffee: wet.

[Jon's flinch goes unremarked upon, even as Chris turns it into a barb with the rest and buries it deeper. It was a natural reaction. If anything, he wished more reacted that way than they had during this time. Jon should have a healthy wariness of him...but the fact he remains where he is...

And he calls himself a coward.

Chris pulls away when his boyfriend's hold lessens and that tinkling laugh of sea glass trickles into the room.]

A terrible joke...but I love you as well. As you say.

[His unnaturally green eyes remain averted as he crawls his way to the roller to help move himself off to the shower.]

[It's a short trip to the bathroom with Jon reaching it first and taking the opportunity to turn the taps on to something warm. He knows that won't be great for Chris, but Jon's already tepid on showers after the Pit. Doing something cold might remind him far too much of that.

While Chris wheels himself in, Jon moves to undress, folding his clothes quickly and setting them on the counter. While he's had enough experience with Chris not to be terribly shy about stripping, he does pause when he gets to his underwear and glances briefly at the siren.]

Er... f-feel free to get in first, if you'd like. Make yourself as comfortable as you can.

[Chris at least remembers himself enough by the time Jon's got his shirt off to not simply stare at him with his likely unsettling Siren eyes. He focuses instead on getting off the roller and pulling himself to the shower's edge by the time Jon hesitatates. Chris glances to him, emotions a little torn in the moment, but then heads into the shower and the cool water...that quickly turns warm. He winces a little as his mind tells him it's Wrong, but just puts himself more under the spray.]

I'd tease you about having propriety when I've seen and memorized every bit of you, but I feel like I'm not as quick like this. It'd probably come out flat.

[He'd blame it more on Jon not trusting Chris to keep his hands to himself in this form -a fear he might even agree with- but Jon was getting undressed with the intention of coming into the water with him. Maybe it wasn't quite that and more just...Jon. It's an oddly fond thought and one he keeps close as he settles against the back wall of the shower on the floor, his twin tails more directly in the spray than his head and torso for the angle of the water.]

[Jon feels himself blush at the cleric's words and harrumphs theatrically.]

I'd like you to draw a map of my scars without a reference if you're that confident.

[The underwear comes off and Jon steps into the shower. He just... he needs to help soothe the man and help him understand that what he's done isn't completely unforgivable, even if it feels like it. God, does he know that feeling. The empathy is at war with fear, but he presses past that as he places his hands on Chris chest and slides them up to his shoulders, to cup his neck. A neck he never wants to see collared again. Certainly never in so cruel a fashion as Chris had done for himself.]

We'll get through all of this. I promise.

[Now...that's a thought. If he remembers it later, he might just try that.
For now, he's more distracted with having Jon near. The water is warm and feels like cotton in his gills even as his lungs work fine. It's a little harder to breathe, but he doesn't mention it. Jon wouldn't appreciate the sort of cold water Chris needed right now and he still remembers the cold spray of the pit. On a normal day, he wasn't too fond of showers of too low a temperature either. Besides, that wasn't even the loudest part of the siren's instincts right now.

Right now, he wants nothing more than to drag Jon to proper water and never leave. He wants to curl around the other man and have him as his body wants and twine himself with him so no mortal could tell the difference between them.
He bites the inside of his own lip for it and instantly draws blood, but it helps him focus. The last thing he wants is to hurt someone he loves so deeply even a monstrous version of himself knows it.

His hands slip up Jon's hips to his sides and he leans into the feeling of those hands on his neck. A quiet hum filters through under his words, not one of coercion or calling, but simply of echoing life. Contentment.]

I believe you...thank you for not [Leaving.]...thank you for weathering every curve this place throws with me. I don't know that I would still hold half my reason or compassion without.

[The gratitude is strange to hear. Not so much staying, but the reason that it matters. He's never considered himself a particularly warm or grounding individual. But maybe Chris just draws that out of him.]

Together. Now and for everything to come.

[Jon takes a deep breath of the steam and wavers for a moment in indecision. He presses a kiss to Chris' lips, tries not to shiver at the touch of talons skating across his skin.]

We can do what you need to, so you know. Apart from going into the water. You haven't asked for it, so I'm offering it. If you need... if having sex would make this easier for you, we can do that.

[the feeling that washes through him is a duality. A want to claim and keep and have and taste. And a want to shelter and and worship and defend.

It was…a blurred line as to which was which. A thought he didn’t indulge in long.

Chris leans in to press his lips to Jon’s skin and one of his tails curls lightly around his partners calf.]

I want you…but my mind isn’t taken with lust any more than a normal day. Mostly. I’m alright.

I’m not an incubus, I just want you because I usually do…maybe a bit more so because the siren knows you’re mine.

[It's that 'mostly' that concerns him. Jon's siren form seems to be impulsive and violent. Even if he's managed to restrain himself with Jon, he hasn't with others.]

You're not. I just want you to know that if something happens while you're like this, you're okay. I'm giving my consent. [A small breath as he tips his head back briefly to catch the water.] But what if I just kiss you for now?

[He leans in to press his lips to the siren's neck, to the slits of his gills, and lets his tongue... test one. Mostly out of curiosity. When is he ever going to lick a gill once Chris changes back? Signs point to 'never.']

[Jon says he's giving his consent and it makes something warm swell up in him, not just lust, but more than the word 'love' felt like it could hold. It comes out, instead, in the trilling hum of happiness Chris sings to Jon's skin.

A song that stutters short into something surprised and needy when Jon's lips press to one of his gills. And then his tongue...

Chris shivers visibly and his head falls back a bit to the wall of the shower. His talons grow tense in his hold against Jon's skin as he desperately fights against the urge to bury them into his partner while his hum shifts and changes to something pleased.

Apparently that's an okay place for mouths on Sirens, he'd had no idea. Quietly, he pulls on Jon a little to encourage him to settle in Chris' lap.

"You could bite...if you want."

At least he probably doesn't taste especially salty, not for how long it's been since he's been in the ocean.

It's certainly not the strangest thing Chris has ever told him. It feels like it might be bad to injure the siren's gills, but he seems to be taking to this well. And if it helps to soothe Chris' worried and fractured mind? It seems worth it to indulge. Even if it's strange.

How did he end up with a masochist? And a sadist. Jon is hyperaware of the claws straining not to stab into him and tries not to let it pull his fear to the forefront too much.

"Mm..." Biting. He's been given leave to bite and that's something he likes doing. Maybe there's a part of him that's just a tiny bit sadistic. Jon bites into the place he's just been kissing, careful to angle it so he avoids anything that might actually tear at the gills. But maybe a bit of bruising? He doesn't hold back in strength for the first bite, but eases off quickly to lick and kiss the spot.

The bite on such a sensitive area does exactly as Chris suspected and sends a vicious jolt through him that draws a sound of need and painful pleasure tied together in melody out of the siren. His hips roll and his hands purposefully flatten to better grab at one hip so his other hand can trace up Jon's spine as far as he can reach...and then back down his thigh.

It's enough that, once the lick and kiss sooth sore skin, his body stirs and his tails wind around Jon's ankles. The slit between them parts and he arches up towards Jon as though drawn to him as the tip of his hardening cock with it's soft-barbed texture slips out.

"Jon..." It's a whine and a desperate ode and his calling song starts again, unbidden. Come to me. Be with me. Mine.

The trill of song pulls at Jon's mind, but it's a tug he's able to shrug off with minimal effort. Which means he's left with a choice, rather than something being forced upon him. The trail of Chris' claws leaves him feeling strange and hypersensitive. His own cock is just barely perking up, and he hopes it will just go away in a few moments.

Jon glances down in time to see Chris' weird-looking cock emerge, though. He'd told the other man it was okay if this happened. The Archivist sighs against the cleric's skin before dropping a hand down and wrapping it around the length. He hides the mild grimace in another bite at the gills and kiss.

"Relax," he murmurs. "Just relax." The efforts to squeeze and work the cock are inexpert, but Jon tries to aim toward some sort of rhythm.

The water feels cool again compared to the heat in him and his song shifts in subtle notes, leaving him barely any time to realize what he’d tried to do again. Guilt runs as a background chord to the sparking jolt of pleasure he’s pulled into.

Part of his mind pushes back. Jon doesn’t want this. He hadn’t intended this…yet requested the closeness and the bites. More rain on him and he groans and rolls his hips into I’ll-practiced fingers.

‘Mine. Stay. Closer. Closer.’ His song calls out and Chris tries to pull Jon down onto him, even with the awkward angle that would put them in.

“Need you…I don’t…doesn’t have to be this-just you.”

It’s not enough. The words are a pale thing compared to his meaning and relaxing seems an impossible feat.

This is awkward and slippery and Jon's not at all sure what to do with the continued trills of song. The pluck at his mind, but they're only notes here and there, pesky things to be batted away to keep his head where it should be. At least he knows Chris can't drown him in the shower.

Probably.

He can, however, try to pull Jon into him. It forces the Archivist to brace an arm against the wall to keep himself stable.

"I'm yours. You have me." They're in the most placating tone he can manage. Jon lifts his hand off of Chris' cock to try to reposition himself as the siren tugs at him. "And we can do this. I'm not- you're not affecting me right now. Just- what do you want? My hand?"

His hand drops down again as he rubs along Chris' length, continuing to feel intensely unprepared for whatever this nonsense new anatomy is. Cocks are strange enough without adding another layer to it. He can't help glancing down again as curiosity gets the better of him. Would a siren's cock have scales on it? Or... feathers?

A curious eye might notice it does indeed have...scales? Probably. At least, they're ridges in a similar color to Chris' scales and feathers that encircle the base.

In the torn moment of not being sure how to say what's in his head, Chris at least manages to resist the urge to let his cock lose its rigidity and...move as he'd learned it could do. Even like this, he knew a slightly prehensile dick might be too much for his poor Archivist. He does reach up to dig his fingers into Jon's short hair, causing his talons to scrape briefly along his scalp.

"Hand is...yes...just kiss me."

It's barely a request as he lunges up to press their lips together. The force of it catches both of their lips on the edges of his sharp teeth and he swirls his tongue over the nicks as apology before seeking more. Deeper. He's closer than he should be...but Jon had that effect on him, whether he liked it or not.

Jon's heart races, as much for the scrape of very sharp talons and teeth that could rip his throat out as the fact that he's chosen to do this to help settle his boyfriend down. Chris... likes sex, though. A release might help him? Maybe. God, Jon doesn't know if that's supposed to actually help.

But Chris seems enthusiastic now. The consent given on both sides? They might have to have a conversation later about whether there's any sort of issue there caused by the siren's instincts.

He tastes blood winces as their mouths meet, and Jon lets the other man take him there while he continues to work the scaled, feathery length in his hand. An effort is made to try to... catch some of the feathers. Just a sort of flex of his fingers when he's down near the base. If this like stroking someone's pubic hair? What are the mechanics for a bird-fish creature?

While his hand does it's best, Jon's lips know this dance far better. Albeit, there are fewer teeth involved in their usual snogging sessions. With the way Chris is positioned, Jon can go up on his tip-toes to get a better vantage to for tipping the siren's head back and deepen the embrace. He can do this. What his hands are doing are secondary. At least one part of this can be good.

The hand on him might not be amazing but it’s functional and still with someone he loves with every ounce of himself. With Jon. That was bonus. He can feel his body tensing and focuses more on the kissing.

There’s something in him that revels in how his partner looks over him with how he’s angled. A tangle of lips and a hand on him…

Jon’s name slips from him in a very needfully human way as his nails very lightly prick the skin beneath them and Chris’ head tips back in surrender. To Jon. To the moment. To how his body shudders and his cock pulses as orgasm overtakes him and he spills over his lover’s hand.

It’s not a song that breathes from his throat, but a gasping whispered sound of Jon’s name.

Jon bites his tongue as he feels the nails dig into him. It's a small bit of pain, and that, he can take. At least Chris isn't trying to bite him on instinct with his very sharp inhuman teeth. There's some satisfaction in the end, though, even for the Archivist. Hearing Chris so plaintive in the aftermath makes his heart flutter a little. However inexpert, he's managed to do something that's made Chris feel good, if but for a fleeting moment.

Jon lets go quickly and holds his hand so the water rinses the cum off. His other arm continues to brace him near the siren. "You're all right. We're going to get through this and you're going to change back," he murmurs. "And Amelia's going to come back. We'll handle this. Together."

With his hand mostly clean, he wraps it around Chris' back and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, Chris. Whatever you do, whatever you are. I still love you." It seems like the least he can offer after the kindness the cleric has shown him.

For a moment, the world and his head feel a little more at peace, the fog in both leaving him thoughtless and unfettered.

It’s not until Jon has his arms around him again the thoughts return.

He killed Amelia.

And she’ll forgive him for it.
Jon forgave him for it.

He keeps his breathing even, shuts his eyes tight, and keeps Jon close. A few tears slip through despite him, but they’re lost in the shower’s spray.

“I love you as well…without you, I’d…” the words die, not for brambles in his throat, but for too many answers to offer. All resonating similarly: he’d be long since lost. He takes another breath and focuses on the feeling of Jon in his arms to keep the rest of his thoughts, inhuman or otherwise, out.

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cw: slight self-harm

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